


Scary Story Showdown

by iloveallmyfandomsequally



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Campfire stories, Gen, Ghost Stories, Halloween, Spooky stories, mentions of blood and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveallmyfandomsequally/pseuds/iloveallmyfandomsequally
Summary: Six kids gather around a campfire to tell the spookiest stories around.
Relationships: Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	Scary Story Showdown

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [safer in the dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313246) by [thetasteoflies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetasteoflies/pseuds/thetasteoflies). 



> This story was inspired by thetasteoflies' story "safer in the dark". I have linked it, so you should go check it out!

The fire crackled and popped as the six friends lounged around its comforting warmth. The deep blue of the night sky was illuminated by millions of stars. The gang had just finished their dinner and were enjoying the ambiance, a comfortable silence between each of them. But as the minutes passed by, a growing monotony loomed over them like a storm cloud. “As much as I like sitting around doing nothing, this time is particularly boring,” Toph said. “Anyone got an idea of what we could do?”

“Ooh! We could sing campfire songs!” Sokka suggested, enthusiasm in his words. It immediately dissipated when an array of negative looks got shot his way as if to say, “Really?”

“Lame!” Toph said in a bored sing-song tone, puffing some hair out of her face.

Sokka’s spirits and body slumped as he supported his head in his hands, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning.

“I’ll sing campfire songs with you, Sokka,” Aang offered, patting his shoulder. Sokka grumbled out a curt, “Thanks,” before taking a stick and poking the fire with it.

Katara tapped her chin as she brainstormed what they could do. It took a moment before a lightbulb went off. “Hey! I know! We could tell  _ spooky _ campfire stories,” she suggested, waggling her fingers and making her voice ominous.

“That’s not a bad idea, Sweetness,” Toph said.

“Yeah, telling scary stories sounds like fun,” Suki agreed.

“I haven’t heard a scary campfire story since I was hanging out with Kuzon! This should be cool!” Aang said, a smile forming on his lips.

Zuko just gave an approving hum.

“Well, that  _ actually _ seems fun,” Sokka said, earning a glare from Katara. “It’s no  _ campfire song _ , but--” His sentence was cut short when Katara smacked him with some free water she had. “ _ Okay! Okay! _ We can tell campfire stories!”

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Toph asked.

“ _ Oh! Oh! Me! Me! _ ” Sokka cried, waving his raised hand so fast it was barely visible. “I got a good one!”

“Gee, I dunno. For someone who didn’t like the idea it’s too quick of a turn around,” Toph feigned pondering. “Sugar Queen, you wanna go?”

“Uh . . .” Katara trailed off as Sokka continued to flail like an idiot.

“How ‘bout you, Twinkle Toes?”

“Toph, I think--”

“Fan Girl?” Suki only shifted her eyes around, not bothering to say anything.

“Sparky, come on--”

“Oh,  _ please _ , Toph!” Sokka begged, clasping his hands together and making his eyes big. “Pretty, pretty please? Pretty, pretty please with seal jerky on top? Pretty, pretty please--”

“ _ Okay! Fine! _ Sokka can go first. . . .” Toph conceded, grumbling and slumping her chin onto her fist.

“Alright!” Sokka jumped up to stand on the log. “Prepare yourself, ‘cause I’m about to knock your socks off with the  _ spooky _ story I’m about to tell you!” Sokka said, waving his voice. “On a dark and stormy night, there was a lonely hunter scouting the woods for his next meal--”

“Is this an actual story, or an autobiography?” Toph retorted.

“ _ Hey! _ I am  _ try-ing _ to tell a really scary story here!” Sokka protested. “I don’t need comments from the peanut gallery.”

“Whatever,” Toph muttered, rolling her eyes.

“As I was saying, before I was  _ so rudely interrupted _ ,” he continued, eyeing Toph. “A lonely hunter scouted the woods to catch his next meal, but it was raining so all the animals must’ve been taking shelter. It also didn’t help that it was at night, so it was hard to see without a light. But a lantern would scare off the animals.”

“Okay, why is the hunter hunting at night? That makes no sense,” Katara quipped.

“ _ No more interruptions! _ ” Sokka exclaimed, throwing his balled fists by his sides. The red in his face wasn’t just caused by the heat of the fire. “It’s  _ my _ story so  _ I _ decide how to tell it!”

“Alright, jeez!” Katara said, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. “ _ Fussy _ .”

Sokka let out a growl before taking in a breath and calming down. “Anyway, the hunter needed food and shelter to get out of the rain. He walked for what felt like miles, the mud and wet grass caking his boots over time. If he didn’t get somewhere soon he’d surely be feasted on by the creatures of the night before he could feast on them. After some horrid trudging, his bones ached and his lungs felt like they caught fire. But, as if the spirits had outright blessed him, he spotted a cabin in the distance. Overjoyed, the hunter all but ran to it, slipping a few times before eventually getting to the door. It was luckily unlocked, so the hunter had no problem getting inside, taking his cloak and boots off.

“He noticed there were some stray logs and figured whoever lived there wouldn’t mind him using it to stay free of hypothermia. It was a forest for crying out loud, they could get wood anywhere! So after he had a steady fire going, he left his socks and cloak to dry and decided to shuffle through the kitchen to find a decent meal. He discovered a pot and decided he could heat up some water to make a nice stew. There were stray vegetables in the pantry that he could cut up to put in there, all he needed was a nice meat to seal the deal. Any meat to him would do at that point. He noticed the storage room connected to the end of the kitchen and figured if it were anywhere, it’d be there. He went over and it took a few tries of his strength, but he eventually got it open. Using a spare candle, the man held the light up, only to find out there was  _ no meat in the storage room! Oh the horror! _ ”

A chorus of groans came from the group as they all did some sort of eye roll or throwing their heads back.

“Sokka, why do you  _ always _ have to think with your stomach!” Katara scolded, her hands on her hips.

“Yeah! That wasn’t scary at all!” Aang protested. “That was the lousiest horror story I’ve ever heard! And that’s saying a lot!”

“ _ What! _ How can you say it’s  _ not _ a horror story!” Sokka exclaimed, balling his fists. “If I found out there was no meat in my storage room, I’d be so terrified I’d faint!”

“ _ Ugh! _ You could’ve at least done something  _ good! _ ” Toph whined, throwing her hands up. “Like have the meat be forbidden! Or have an evil spirit shut the door and have the hunter freeze to death in the cooler while the evil spirit feasted on his--”

“ _ Thank you _ , Toph, for that graphic and gruesome constructive criticism for Sokka’s story,” Katara said. “Would anyone like to go next?”

“I can go,” Aang offered, giving a light raise to his hand.

“Sure, Aang,” Katara obliged. “Take it away.”

“Alright, this story is called ‘Love Potion’,” Aang started, earning interested hums from the ensemble. “Once there was a man who took a vacation to Ember Island. When he arrived at his inn, he was content with everything. The weather was perfect, the beach was immaculate, the inn was high quality, and the atmosphere brought excitement. That night, he got dressed up all fancy and went to a restaurant for a nice dinner.

“While he was at dinner, he spotted a beautiful woman in an elegant Fire Nation dress, sitting at a table near him. He thought she was extremely beautiful; long, dark hair, deep brown eyes, tanned skin, and full lips.” Aang’s eyes shifted ever so slightly to Katara, who didn’t take notice of his glance, nor the rising heat on his cheeks. He cleared his throat and continued, “The man stared at her for what seemed like forever, and was deeply enchanted by her eyes. So much, that he instantly fell in love.

“After a moment to gather his courage, he got up from his table and went to take a seat at hers. He offered to buy her dinner, to which she denied him with a wave of her hand. It made him go crazy, being rejected like that. It was almost as if she’d stabbed him in the heart. He went back to his room, humiliated and head hung in shame.

“The next night he spotted her in the inn lobby and decided to give it another shot. ‘Hi, my name’s Zhengyang,’ he says, flashing her a smile.” The name earned snickers from the group. “‘Why would I care what your name is?’ she asked. ‘I thought maybe we could get to know each other better,’ he said. ‘I’d rather chew my own leg off,’ was her reply. And once again, the man went back to his room humiliated and rejected.

“The next day he decided to explore the market area, and happened to walk past an old woman selling her wares on the side of the street. He saw that she practiced spirit magic and different herbal treatments. He stopped at her stand, he asked if there was some type of herb to make someone fall in love with you. The woman gave him a smile and told him that she had the perfect solution for his problem. She gave him a vial of a strange-looking red leaf, telling him that it was a love herb. The man eagerly took the bottle and paid her for it, and as he was leaving the woman warned him to only put one leaf into the drink of the person he intended to use on it. ‘Otherwise,’ she said, ‘you might regret it.’

“That night, the man found his desired woman at the inn bar and sat down beside her. He began to speak to her, to which she turned her head to ignore him. He took that opportunity to pour the herb into her drink, but was scared that one leaf wasn’t enough so he poured the whole thing into her glass. About twenty minutes later the woman looked at him and smiled. Her eyes sparkled and her pupils were giant. Before he could say anything, she grabbed his face and smacked her lips onto his in a passionate kiss. The man was star-struck, he couldn’t believe the herbs worked! The rest of the night was spent with her in romantic embraces, kissing, and cuddling like newlyweds.

“The next morning, the woman wanted to surprise him. She made a nice breakfast of stuffed soup buns and wheat noodles. But unfortunately, the minute she stepped outside she was hit by a hippo-cow-drawn carriage, the force of its hooves killing her instantly.

“The man spent the whole day sobbing, petrified of what happened. As night began to fall, the man was getting over her, but found it hard to fall asleep. As he tossed and turned in bed, he felt a cold presence in his room. Rolling over, he was horrified to find the spirit of his lover dressed in crimson red crouching down beside the door. When she raised her head, he realized her face had been ripped off, revealing the pearly white bone underneath. 

“Before he had a chance to react, she jumped onto the bed and forced him into a kiss. He was able to feel her mutilated lips and bones against his, to which he screamed and screamed. She didn’t let go until morning came, and every single night she returned for the rest of his life.”

He shifted his eyes between the group, finding them to be quite impressed with his story. “And that’s why you should never let your earthly desires build up to the point of making regrettable decisions that cause eternal suffering,” he concluded with a raised finger and closed eyes.

Toph made a sound in between a grunt and snort. “Of  _ course _ with Twinkle Toes the story wouldn’t even be  _ that _ scary,  _ and _ you’d get some type of pointless moral at the end,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and slumping further onto her log.

“I thought it was quite frightening,” Katara said, earning a grin from Aang.

“Well  _ yeah _ , you also find small bugs frightening,” Toph retorted, smirking when Katara made an irritated huff. She sat up and rubbed her hands together “Who’s up?”

“I guess I’ll go next,” Suki offered.

“Sweet,” Toph said. “Whatcha’ got, Fan Girl?”

“It’s an old tale, aging back to Avatar Kyoshi’s time. It’s called ‘The Red Death.’  There once was a prince--”

Everyone looked at Zuko, who’s gaze had been glued to the fire. He glanced up to see five--well,  _ four _ \--pairs of eyes on him. “What?” he asked when he felt awkwardness grow in his chest.

“Nothing, it’s just funny to hear a story about a prince and have an  _ actual _ prince with us,” Katara said with a smile.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the prince in the story, so I don’t see why it matters,” Zuko said.

“It’s just a humorous coincidence,” Sokka said.

“So,” Suki said, reclaiming their attention, “continuing with the story: There was a prince who lived in a castle on a huge mountain range, stretching miles and miles. The castle had stone walls as high as the mountains themselves, surrounded by a deep, murky moat. At the entrance there were giant iron gates and an enormous portcullis over the door.”

“‘ _ Portcullis _ ’, now that’s a big word,” Toph mused, shifting the grass between her lips.

“What’s a portcullis?” Aang asked, cocking his head.

“It’s like a heavy, vertically-closing gate,” Suki said, earning an understanding nod from him. “Anyway, one day the prince heard rumors of a terrible plague making its way across the land. They call it ‘The Red Death’.”

Everyone,  _ again _ , turned to Zuko. He shot up from his slumped position. “ _ Seriously _ , why do you guys keep looking at me like that!”

“Fire Nation colors  _ are _ red, y’know,” Sokka pointed out the obvious.

“Wow, really? I thought they were magenta,” Zuko retorted, cocking his unamused eyebrow.

“Well, the Fire Nation aesthetic  _ is _ red,” Katara repeated, “and they brought a bunch of torturing and suffering to all the nations so you could  _ technically _ call them--”

“Okay!  _ Okay! _ I get it!” Zuko conceded, throwing his hands in surrender. “I guess you could also call the Fire Nation ‘The Red Death’.”

“Alright, now I’m starting to get how Sokka felt,” Suki grumbled, crossing her arms. Sokka gave her a smile and pecked her cheek, to which she mirrored his.

“Yeah, enough roasting Sparky!” Toph said. “I wanna hear the rest of the story!”

The others quieted down and Suki took that as her cue to pick back up. “The disease of the Red Death was highly contagious, wiping out entire towns in a single night. Those who got the plague suffered from sudden dizziness and sharp pains. Their skin broke out into welching ugly rashes. But the worst part was within minutes all their blood would start to pour from their eyes, nose, and mouth until they collapsed into a writhing slug until they died.

“As the plague drew nearer, the prince invited hundreds of his friends to take refuge in his castle, and to keep him company as well. He did everything he could; lock the gates, barred the windows, and lowered the portcullis to keep everyone else out. Inside the castle, the prince and his friends laughed, danced, ate, drank, and were merry, while the people outside dropped dead by the second. The Red Death shows no mercy.

“To keep his guests entertained, the prince decided to throw a grand masquerade ball. He ordered his servants to redecorate seven rooms, especially for the ball. The first room was painted blue from floor to ceiling; the second pink, third green, fourth orange, fifth white, and the last a royal purple. However, the seventh room was completely black; the walls were painted black, the carpet was black, the curtains were made of black silk, and all the furniture was upholstered in black velvet.

“On one of the walls there was a large black clock with a pendulum that swung to and fro, making a loud, monotonous ticking sound. On every hour, the clock would strike and booming clangs, not too different from a bell, would sound.

“None of the rooms had any lights, only a blazing fire in the fireplace that casted shadows on the wall. In the seventh room, the firelight cast such eerie and frightening shadows that most of the guests were afraid to take  _ one step _ in.

“The masquerade ball started in the blue room, and unsurprisingly the guests were having a grand ol’ time. And, just like a masquerade requires, everyone was wearing a mask. Happy music played while the guests danced, ate, and drank ‘til their hearts’ content. Whenever the clock struck the hour, the music would stop, and the guests would listen to the low chimes until it stopped, and then migrated to the next room where they would start all over again.

“As the night went on, they shifted from room to room; blue to pink, pink to green, green to orange, and so forth. That was until they came upon the black room. When the clock struck the hour of twelve, everyone stopped to listen, but there was something different this time. As the chimes quieted, everyone noticed an unfamiliar masked figure. The stranger, tall and gaunt, was dressed in a dark red cape and his face was covered in a red skull-shaped mask.

“When the prince caught sight of the intruding guest, he felt anger boiling inside him. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘How dare you insult me by coming here without an invitation! Leave my castle this instant or I will have you executed!’

“The masked figure made no effort to leave, in fact, he just stood there as if to mock the prince. But suddenly, there was crimson red light illuminating the black room, frightening the guests to the point that they were frozen in place. The prince did not like to be disobeyed. He drew his sword, pointing it towards the stranger’s neck. ‘Leave now or I will slay you myself,’ he threatened.

“The masked figure crept towards the prince, all of the guests filtering away like he was parting a sea. Looming over the prince, the figure reached his boney hand to remove the mask from his face. The prince let out a cry and subconsciously dropped his sword. The guests’ screams were deafening as the prince could only stare into the black abyss where the figure’s face was supposed to be.

“All of a sudden, the prince felt dizzy. His sides ached as if a thousand knives were penetrating him at once. His skin broke out into an ugly rash almost as red as the figure’s mask. But what sealed the deal was when he felt the dreaded dripping. His nose and ears oozed red, and in his eyes he looked as if he was crying the thick, sticky, liquid.

“His guests began to drop dead. He didn’t know what was more scary; their screaming or them slowly fading over time through the seven rooms. The Red Death had come like a thief in the night, taking the prince and his guests one by one. The clock struck yet again, and as it chimed, it was the last time it would ever sound as the Red Death triumphed over the kingdom.”

Suki felt a sense of pride when she saw the fear embedded in their faces. She couldn’t help but smirk, happy that her story-telling skills were  _ finally _ put to some use.

“Woah. . . . Now  _ that _ was a scary story!” Toph cried, a huge grin on her face. “Seriously! Finally some good horror elements and everyone dies at the end!”

“Only  _ you _ would like a story where everyone dies at the end, Toph,” Katara retorted.

“Guilty,” Toph said with a shrug.

“So, who’s got the next story?” Sokka asked.

“I do,” Katara volunteered. “And it’s  _ that _ one.”

Sokka’s features loosened and his mouth did the slightest gape. The others exchanged glances, not appreciating being left in the dark.

“What do you mean ‘ _ that _ ’ one?” Aang asked, a hesitance in his voice.

“Alright, keep your blankets close,” Katara said, her smile forming into an ominous grin. “But keep the light  _ closer _ .” She held up a flaming torch to her face, illuminating her features. A few of them sucked in a hesitant breath. “I’m going to tell you a story that may or may not be true. It’s an old Water Tribe legend that many have said to not just be of fantasy. Multiple sightings and mysterious abductions of people from the Southern Water Tribe have plagued our culture for centuries. It’s up to you what you want to believe after the story I have to tell you.

“Once, there were two little Water Tribe children playing near the edge of the Southern Water Tribe border. It was growing dark as the protective sun fell over the sky to announce nighttime was upon them. As they got nearer and nearer to the water’s edge, an eerie presence creeping up, unbeknownst to either of them. The first child dared the second to get as far as he could to the water without the ice cracking. ‘Are you crazy?’ said the second. ‘That ice could break any second! Also, don’t you know about the Qallupilluit?’

“The first child scoffed. ‘That’s only a tall tale to keep misbehaving kids in line. The Qallupilluit isn’t real, you’re just being an arctic chicken.’

“When the second child still refused, the first began to make chicken noises, as if to belittle him for his cowardice.

“Eventually when the mocking got to be too much, the second child gave in, telling the other he’d do his ‘stupid dare’. With a gulp and soft footsteps, the second child slinked to the edge of the ice, a few cracks making themselves known here and there. Once he was practically at the tip, he called back to his friend, ‘There! I’ve done your stupid dare! Now I’m gonna walk back and--’ But he never got to finish his sentence, for long, boney fingernails yanked him off the ice. The first child shrieked in pure terror as he saw everything he put off as a myth there; its eyes cutting through him like knives. He watched as the creature forced his friend into its amautik, its slimy hand latched onto the second child’s face. 

“The first child was as frozen as the ice underneath him, unable to do anything to help his doomed friend. The second child cried his name over and over, begging him to do  _ anything _ to get him away from the]creature, but it dropped the amautik into the water, drowning his screams until they were hissing bubbles. The first child didn’t make any effort to run, so the creature took the easy opportunity. As it latched onto his arm, it broke the first child out of his trance. He yanked as hard as he could, but it was almost as if the creature had glued itself onto his parka. He worked his vocal cords raw with how much screaming he did to try and get someone,  _ anyone _ , to come help him.

“The creature, as if to mock him, covered his mouth to silence his cries. And just as it did with the second child, it began to stuff the first into its amautik. He struggled vigorously, but was no match for the creature’s unbearable strength. When he was eventually fully inside, darkness encased him as the creature closed the amautik, and was hit with water so cold it could wake the dead. He could feel the pressure through his parka as he sank deeper and  _ deeper _ under the water. If only he had believed the elders of his village when they told him that story. If only he had listened to his friend’s warnings instead of making fun of him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be falling into the endless, dark, depths of the unforgiving sea,  _ never _ to be seen again.”

There were a bunch of “Ooh”s from her friends, to which Katara gave a devilish smirk.

“ _ Not _ bad, Sweetness,  _ not _ bad!” Toph complimented. She sat up and stretched, linking her fingers together and cracking them. Getting up she decided to stand on her log just as Sokka did before. “Okay, ladies, time to  _ really _ get ya shakin’ in your boots. The story I’m about to tell is called, ‘Look at Me’.”

There was a slight pause, and then everyone started to laugh profusely. Sokka fell off his log and flailed his limb; Suki was laughing so hard she started snorting; Aang had to wipe tears from his eyes; Katara did everything she could to suppress it, using both hands to quiet herself but failing miserably; and Zuko only let out a vibrating chuckle, but found it amusing nonetheless.

“ _ What? _ ” Toph asked, putting her balled fists at her waist. “What’s so-- _ oh _ .”

“Sorry, Toph,” Katara said, having to take breaths in between. “It’s just too ironic not to laugh.”

“Yeah, yeah, I kinda dug myself into a hole with that one,” Toph said, crossing her arms. “Anyway, my story is actually on a whole other level of scary, ‘cause it  _ actually _ happened.” There was a chorus of “Ooh’s” from the others, to which Toph gave a devilish smirk. “A kid in my village was home alone when someone, or some- _ thing _ , broke into his home. Here’s what he told us:

“One evening my mother and father were out, leaving me in the house alone. I took that time to read and catch up on work from school. I spent the whole evening in my room at my desk. My parents had left around six P.M., and I had closed the door so any noise or distractions would be blocked out. However, it didn’t help the noise of the storm raging outside, lightning crashes and everything. Sometimes I’d get entranced by the rain outside and had to look up from my book.

“My parents got home around eleven P.M. When I’d heard the carriage pull up I opened the door to my room to go and greet them. As soon as my mother stepped into the house, she shouted my name. ‘What on earth happened here!’ she demanded. Confused, I ran down the stairs to find my mother standing in the hallway, looking furious. ‘Was this you?’ she yelled, pointing to the floor. I looked down to see muddy footprints caked on the carpet.

‘I have no idea how those got there,’ I said honestly. ‘I spent the whole night at my desk reading.’

“Her face immediately changed from anger to confusion, and then to fear. It clicked in both our heads that I probably wasn’t the only one in the house. We decided to follow the trail of footprints, hopefully able to solve the mystery. They came from the back door, which had been unlocked. Then we noticed something that made our blood run cold; there was no trail of footprints leading back to the door.

“Just then we heard a loud, pounding echo that shook the house. Then there was a sound of the front door being swung open and a slammed shut again.  _ Wham! _ ” Toph cried, throwing her hands up, and earning yelps from the others. “We all ran to the storage room, locking the door while my father sent a message to alert the authorities.

“After what felt like hours, two guards showed up at our door. One of them stayed in the storage room with us while the other searched our house thoroughly. When the second guard came back, he told us that there was no one inside our house and that it was safe to come back in. As we all were breathing sweet relief, he proceeded to ask, ‘Whose bedroom is upstairs on the left?’

“My parents looked to me. ‘It’s mine,’ I said.

“He asked us to follow him. As we walked through the house, we noticed that there was now a trail of muddy footprints leading from the back door, through the common room, through the hallway, up the stairs, into my parents’ bedroom, and then to mine. They stopped at my doorway. The second guard pointed at my door, which had been closed but open ever so slightly. There was writing on it, in black ink. It read the following:

“‘I see you.’

“‘You forgot to lock the back door.’

“‘You seem focused.’

“‘Turn around.’

“‘Look at me.’

“‘Look at me.’

“‘Look at me.’

“‘Look at me.’

“For more than two hours, someone had been standing at my door, watching me. To this day I still shudder at the thought of what could’ve been if I’d turned around.”

Toph could sense the quickening heartbeats of her friends, and multiple shivers down each of their spines. She allowed a small quirk of her lips. 

“Did they ever find out who broke in?” Katara asked, a tremble in her voice.

“How should I know?” Toph retorted, sitting back down and crossing her legs. “Besides, that kid was a dipstick anyway. He’d always move stuff away from me when I couldn’t sense yet, playing it off as some type of ‘joke’. Kinda deserved it in my opinion.”

“Still. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to not feel safe in your own home,” Katara said, looking down at her fidgeting hands.

“Well, it’s water under the bridge. Alright, Sparky, your turn,” Toph announced.

Zuko shifted on his log and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh . . . I dunno. I’m pretty bad at telling stories.”

“Pfft! Come on! It can’t be worse than your joke telling,” Sokka teased, cocking an eyebrow. Zuko sent him a glare, to which the others got a good laugh.

“We never told scary stories for fun when I was growing up,” Zuko admitted. “Mostly just to strike fear into the hearts of young children to keep them in line. Like Katara’s story, but more gruesome. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard war stories just to keep me from slumping in my chair or walking improperly.”

“So just tell us one of those,” Sokka said. “How bad can they get?”

“Uh, I dunno if you wanna hear them--”

“C’mon, Sifu Hotman, if  _ all _ of us have told scary stories, that means  _ you _ have to, too,” Toph said.

The others continued an array of begging and dragging out his name in a whiney way, and it got to the point where ignoring them wasn’t going to cut it. His eyes became dark in the light of the fire, shining a grim yellow. “ _ Fine _ , you wanna hear a scary story?” Zuko inquired, taking them off guard with his serious undertone. “I’ll  _ tell _ you a scary story.

“Once, there was a boy who frolicked in a meadow everyday. He loved the meadow; he loved the grass, the flowers; he loved all the animals that lived there; he loved the single tree that stood firmly in the middle so whenever he wanted to nap he could; but most of all, he loved the guardian of the meadow. She was his rock, a gentle, kind spirit, who promised to never let anything happen to him. But where light shined, darkness  _ always _ followed. Deep in the shadows of the outer forest encasing the meadow lied a horrible monster. The boy knew the monster wanted to hurt him, for what reason he knew not, but the kind spirit would never let him. She was his shield from becoming a victim of the monster’s wrath.

“Only one unsuspecting day she vanished, without a warning, without any trace. It was as if she were never there at all. Even after she had disappeared, the monster wouldn’t step out of the dark forest into the light of the meadow. The boy wondered why. Was it a personal choice or was it something bigger? But where there’s unknowing, there’s also foolishness.

“One day the boy was feeling particularly brave, so, when the time came he followed the monster back to its lair. Just like the forest, it was dark, but pointed rocks that almost looked like teeth stood and hung everywhere. It was then, the boy became even more curious, and decided to go further, getting to the point where he could hear the monster’s ragged, slow breathing. But then something happened that would define his fate forever. He made the decision of stepping on an old bone from one of the monster’s last meals, his foot shattering it on impact and making a loud  _ crack _ .

“The monster looked up to see the boy completely petrified. Its features grew grim, a rumbling growl in his throat and loomed over the defenseless child. The boy had made a step out of line, and for that he needed to be punished. Once the boy regained his voice, he begged for mercy, getting down on his knees, promising to  _ never _ trespass into the monster’s cave again. But the monster was deaf to his words, them meaning nothing from a poor, weak, helpless child in his great presence. The monster decided that the boy needed to be punished for his act of treachery, so, with its claws sharp, he hurt the boy.  _ Badly _ . It was a pain that could never have been prepared for. It was the most pain the boy had ever endured in his life, even more painful than when the spirit left. From what remained of his face, it was left mangled, ugly, and unfixable.

“Everywhere he went, the people saw his injury before they saw him. It was as if he wasn’t a person anymore, but a mark on the world. That led the boy to the forest; no one could see his scar there, and he would be free of judgement. The forest called to him, telling him that as long as he stayed there he would never have to see another being again. ‘It’s what I deserve’, he thought, ‘What use is there keeping a ruined doll laying around?’ So, for the rest of his days, the boy spent every minute in isolation, wary of anyone who  _ dared _ cross paths with him. But those who were unfortunate to come across him say that if you look closely, you can see the remnants of the day that boy lost his innocence forever.”

As Zuko took his last breath, he could feel the tension of his friends as they processed his words. He glanced up for a second, and his gaze softened when there was sadness in each of their eyes.

“I don’t like that story. . . .” Suki whimpered.

“Yeah, that story put a damper on my mood,” Toph grumbled. “Thanks a lot, Sparky.”

“Seriously, not only was it scary but kinda . . . sad,” Sokka said, furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at his feet.

“Yeah. Who wants to live in a forest alone for the rest of their lives?” Aang said.

“Well, luckily that story isn’t real,” Zuko assured. “It could’ve been, but it’s not.”

“What do you mean, ‘it could’ve been’?” Katara inquired, suspicious. “How could the story of a boy who was scarred by a monster, left to roam the woods alone and miserable for the rest of his life, ‘could have been true’?” It only took one glance from Zuko to cause her accusatory stare to soften. “Oh,” she whispered.

“What?” the others chorused.

“It’s not real, and never will _ be _ real,” Zuko assured, leaving their confusion unanswered. He got up and grabbed a bucket of water and stood over the fire. “Besides, it’s just a  _ story _ , right?” He poured the water on the campfire, the flames taking its last dying breath with an evil hiss.

**Author's Note:**

> So, how 'bout that late Halloween special, eh? Hopefully you enjoyed that. I wanted to post it anyway cause scary stories aren't just bound to Halloween. Plus, I haven't posted in a while, so I wanted to get something out there.
> 
> Sokka's story is my own personal take on the 'guy lost in the woods and finds a cabin' take, with a comedic twist.
> 
> Aang's story is a story called "Love Potion", where it's the whole love potion backfires trope.
> 
> Suki's story is called "The Red Death", and it's pretty much cut and paste (not literally, don't wanna copy someone else's work). I guess it can be relevant to today's time what with the virus going on, but it's also a cool story, and I'm a sucker for a good masquerade ball.
> 
> Katara's story is based on the Inuit and Indigenous peoples' folklore story the Qallupilluit, so if any indigenous readers want to tell me if the retelling was accurate or inaccurate, please let me know.
> 
> Toph's story is a story called "Look at Me". I thought it'd be funny to have Toph tell a story of irony.
> 
> And Zuko's story, if you couldn't already tell, is the retelling of how he got his scar.
> 
> Also, for anyone who is wondering when the next chapter of my main story "The Joys of Parenting" is coming out, I promise it is in production, I have not abandoned ship. I haven't been motivated to write for it recently, but hopefully I can get the chapter out soon!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
